


"You Can Call Him Skippy"

by helenkacan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Reality, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Related, Comfort Food, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Future, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Near Future, Not Really Character Death, Obsession, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Pining John, Political Expediency, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2100945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenkacan/pseuds/helenkacan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis has been back in Pegasus for a few years now, but John is restless. What kind of trouble is he in now? Trust Rodney to find out and to ... uh ... fix things. Well, after blowing a gasket and calling John a "moron"! Not that John doesn't call Rodney a "moron", too. Bonus dork references to pop-culture.</p>
<p>TIME-LINE: Post "Enemy at the Gate" S5; post "Seizure" SG:U S2</p>
            </blockquote>





	"You Can Call Him Skippy"

**Author's Note:**

> PRELIMINARY SCENE SETUP: If you haven't watched "Seizure", episode 2.15 of Stargate: Universe (which guest starred David Hewlett and Robert Picardo), you may want to read a synopsis or the full transcript on GateWorld. However, it's not crucial if you don't, as it's just background. Moreover, I do apply my own (biased) interpretation to the plot and its consequences. Because, seriously, TPTB devolved the character of Rodney McKay back to his less self-aware SG-1 persona. [For the record, PTB, having him be so engrossed in Lt. James's breasts is just tacky. As if he hadn't ever seen a pair before. Hadn't he? Ha! Have I in fact discovered that there was _nothing_ physical between Rodney and Jennifer (or any other woman on SGA) when SG:U rolled around? Because that's very persuasive evidence in my books.]

It should have been enough, to be back in Pegasus but, the way things were, John wasn't handling life well. Or life wasn't handling him well. Not that it had, not for a long time. He'd been able to cope before, so why couldn't he still do it now.

Stupid question. The differences stared him in the face every day when he looked at his reflection in the mirror, along with the badge insignia. Full fucking bird. At times he wondered if he could send a picture of himself with a terse “fuck you” message to the commanding officer who had slapped him with the black mark – one he thought he'd never be able to overcome. But, instead, _he_ was The Man in Atlantis.

It wasn't just a matter of rank. He used to have a team - _his_ team – around him every day. No longer. AR-1 was led by Lt. Col. Evan Lorne. Well, not _his_ AR-1. That had been disbanded several years ago when the promotions had been announced. AR-1 was bigger. All of the teams were now six persons standard. He wanted each team to have the flexibility to include more scientists when necessary or grunts for physical labour or just more military muscle when a team was visiting a potentially hostile world. That was only one of the changes John had implemented when he moved from the field and behind a desk. Generally speaking.

He still hated paperwork, so foisted it off onto Evan's capable XO, Major Clarice Renton. Instead, he'd devoted himself to military strategy, documenting the various forces they'd come into contact with.... John grimaced and rephrased that in his mind: _been captured by, threatened by, tortured by, running for their lives away from_ , yadda-fucking-yadda. Hence the six-person teams as just one change to the more life-threatening status quo.

Being tied by financial mitten strings to the IOA, not to mention Homeworld Security, meant having to give them _something_ in return. If they couldn't find a super-weapon or new resources, then strategy it was. John had his own lab, complete with a couple of scarily-smart minions who loved to get bogged down in tactical probabilities (translation: it was their version of geek heaven).

Teyla was the only one of his (former) team to accept Evan's invitation ... to continue as the diplomatic voice of Atlantis. To not have her on the première contact team would have sent the wrong message to the worlds they visited. John knew from enough bad experience that they had to be aware of their image ... _abroad_ as it were.

Her second-in-command was another Athosian woman whom they'd rescued in a raid on M3X592. Darrina and a few others had been captured by Wraith worshippers but, oddly, had never been handed over to the Wraith. When she'd been reunited with Teyla, Darrina's opinion was that they'd probably been held as a kind of hedge if the Wraith ever stopped the supply of enzyme. As her captors had moved them from world to world, she had been able to provide Teyla and John with the most up-to-date valuable intel possible.

John was relieved that Teyla did have a second-in-command as Athosian leader. Though he knew she was grooming Torren John to take over from her in the event of her incapacitation or death (though "retirement" sure had a more positive sound), the boy was still too young and inexperienced, no matter how much more quickly youngsters were forced to grow up in Pegasus.

In any event, TJ was hardly on Atlantis or the Athosian settlement that often, as Kanaan was now responsible for giving his son a grounding in Pegasus history and cultures. The two travelled within a larger Athosian family group so not to attract undue interest in a single young boy marked by destiny, visiting local governments, marketplaces and fairs. John smiled, recalling that Torren was now at the age that Jinto and Wex had been when he first met them. TJ was as bright and inquisitive as they had been, but Kanaan didn't give him that much wiggle room to get into trouble. John figured Teyla had laid down that particular law for the benefit of both father and son.

Ronon was away from Atlantis a lot, too. With the Wraith in decline (or at least holding steady at a manageable level, especially with the increasing trend to early hibernation), Ronon finally had the time to search for other survivors of Sateda. He'd led the raid on M3X592 after it turned out not to be suitable for resettling because of the prior presence of Wraith worshippers. When he'd rescued Darrina, he'd sent her to safety at the Alpha site and contacted Teyla, before continuing on to yet another world. His passion was matched equally by his determination to see more survivors of his world reunited again. Despite the loss of Tyre and his other former friends, he dared to hope again of a rebuilt and thriving Sateda.

Even when Ronon was back on Atlantis, it wasn't as if he and John got together all that often. Gone were the daily runs that had kept John on his toes. Instead, Ronon and Amelia had gotten larger quarters together.

John wasn't stupid. He knew better than to drag his buddy away from a new mate. Especially one who could kick-box John into next week. Better she save that kind of a response for the enemy.

So, that left only one other person - the most irritable, grumpy, fascinating and intelligent person he'd ever known. Rodney Fucking McKay. Fuck.

Rodney rarely went off world these days, especially after that ridiculous plot using those wacky communications stones to trick and force the Langarans to allow them to dial the 9th chevron.

While Atlantis had been stuck on Earth, John had been the fascinating focus of Little-Ms-Intergalactic-Blabbermouth (aka Vala Mal Doran) who just happened to complain loudly how terrifying it was to _actually_ die while one's consciousness was trapped inside another body. At least she hadn't been alone, as Daniel Jackson had been trapped alongside her. Not that that would be any consolation to any normal being. But John had figured out that none of them could be considered _normal_ after just a few weeks' association with the SGC. Occasionally, when John was feeling morbid, he'd wonder how his life would have turned out if the coin had flipped the other way.

John didn't blame only Rodney. He couldn't believe that Richard Woolsey had also been sucked into being okay with the scheme. Even though Richard had raised his objections and Rodney had ultimately shut down the dialling program, there had still been fallout for both men. Not so much that they'd made the attempt and deceived the Langarans, but more likely because it had failed and resulted in awkward political instability. Same old, same old.

Richard was still doing penance, the worst of it being stripped of his shiny command of Atlantis. _Naturally_ – John sneered mentally – neither the President nor the IOA were implicated; they were far too smart for that. Also, even though it was Telford who'd orchestrated the whole dirty deal, he'd managed to slide out of any serious repercussions and Young was just lucky he was still currently _stuck_ on the Destiny.

Rodney simply cooped himself up all of the time in his expanded labs, the ones that had been opened during the city's time on Earth. More staff and new experiments kept Rodney too busy to see John, not even for meals in the mess. The only time the CSO appeared was at senior staff meetings conducted by their current leader, Dr. Alma McGregor, a sturdy yet regal-looking Australian born to Scottish immigrants. John often found himself getting lost in the sound of her voice, noting how her inflections would shift, revealing her Scottish heritage whenever she got a little excited. Considering that Alma had to rein in Rodney, that tended to happen on a regular basis. Still, John was always surprised to see how easily she could do it ... and wondered if he could adapt some of her techniques.

~ ~ ~

Rodney's laptop buzzed at him. It wasn't a normal buzz. It was the _special_ one, the one he'd programmed recently to alert him whenever his algorithm detected if and when anyone's sub-cu disappeared off the grid. Rodney groaned and mumbled. He glared at the innocuous-looking alarm clock. 0317. Both too late and too early.

Just as he was about to swing his legs out of bed, the buzzing stopped. He groaned again. He didn't want to think it was a glitch, either with his algorithm or – more likely – with the medical voodoo devices themselves. He rolled over and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

~ ~ ~

Rodney's laptop buzzed at him. Again with the not-normal buzz. He'd been ignoring it every time it had happened. Well, except for noting the time. Always at 0317. It had been happening a lot lately. Not every night, but usually every two or three. This time he didn't go back to sleep. He was irritated with everything. Himself, his life – or lack of one, outside of work.

Yes, yes, he admitted to himself, that _thing_ with Jennifer would never have worked out in the long run. He'd already proved in one lifetime how obsessed he could be; though, on the other hand, he couldn't imagine not doing everything he could to save Sheppard. Save ... _John_. And he knew he'd do it again, he'd always do it, if he needed to. It was just one of those things he couldn't explain to an _outsider_ – he had to admit to himself – especially one who hadn't come through the 'gate in the first wave, though people like Laura and Evan would probably get it.

So he'd said goodbye to the whole white picket fence cum wife cum kids fantasy that he intellectually knew would never have fitted into _his_ reality. As it was, Jennifer had not returned to Pegasus when Atlantis did. She'd confided to Rodney that she, as a still young doctor, couldn't handle having more and more of her CV riddled with black strike-throughs and _"Classified"_ stamped on every page, no matter how prestigious the posting or her status. She wanted to have professional choices other than the SGC. And she wanted a normal life, or what passed for one. On Earth.

But, right now, it was his technology that presumably had the audacity to provoke him. He examined the accumulated data for each of the occurrences and groaned. Of course, it just had to be _him_. But how and why at exactly 0317? Well, he'd start to think of that answer - after he'd had a couple more hours of sleep.

After two hours of unsettled dozing during which Rodney's brain kept poking him, asking where _he_ was going – or, more precisely, _where_ his signal was going, since there was no evidence of any hostile incursion into Atlantis, Rodney dragged himself out of bed and into a hot shower before tackling the day's regular headaches. Late that night, he set his alarm for 0300 – enough time for him to reach the location the signal had winked out and back into existence every time. He snorted in disgust. It figured it just had to be _there_.

Rodney exited the transporter nearest to the pier and waited in a hidden alcove. At 0315, he watched as a figure approached and then went outside. Rodney followed stealthily, managing to flit through the massive outer doors before they whooshed closed again. He'd learnt to slide his bare feet into his shoes and only then his socks, so he wouldn't make any noise. He'd picked that stealth trick up on his own (or had read about it _somewhere_ ) ... and then had shown it to Ronon. He still remembered how Ronon had given him a funny look.

He waited and watched. At exactly 0317, the figure in front of him seemed to shimmer out of existence for a nanosecond before solidifying again – but not alone. Now there were two male bodies, the entirely familiar one and a much younger one who didn't look to be even 20, wearing an ivory sweater over matching trousers.

Rodney stifled another snort (well, if he'd wanted to make a sound, he certainly would have snorted) at the altogether predictable view before him. Two bodies engaged in what looked like glowy sex.

Rodney presumed it was glowy sex because he'd never been able to pin John down about what happened upon his return after he'd followed Chaya back to Proculus. Just that John had acted distant. And wistful. Rodney figured it just _had_ to be sex.

What wasn't predictable for Rodney was that it was two men together. He had never pegged John as an equal-opportunity Kirk before. Which meant that nobody was immune from that _"Aw, shucks"_ Sheppard charm.

Unfortunately for Rodney, the snort hadn't been completely in his mind. The two figures broke apart. The young man's reaction was unexpected. He smiled at Rodney. John looked startled and tense. And revealed a tinge of red that was now staining those definitely too-pointy ears.

"Hey, buddy. Whatcha doing, creeping around in the middle of the night?"

Rodney sputtered. "Don't you 'buddy' me, Sheppard. What am I doing? I'm chasing your sorry ass out to your _special_ pier after being awakened too many nights to count when my unique program warned me a sub-cu had winked out of existence momentarily. Which you should know is not normal." He waved his arms and harrumphed, before resuming. "Not that you ever were. Normal, that is."

Rodney then turned his attention to the young man, with his light brown hair and brown eyes, now that he could get a clearer look after all that glowy sex stuff had dissipated. Rodney's eyes raked over the youthful body with scorn, ignoring the young man's still-open demeanour. "So, who's your little twink friend here?"

To his surprise, it was the twink who answered him, "My name is...." Not that it registered with Rodney's sleep-deprived brain, because it seemed to start with an "S" and was far too long to comprehend, especially at this ridiculous time of night.

John cut in. "You can call him Skippy. I do."

Rodney's voice was indignant. "Oh, thank you so very much, Col. _the-puppy-followed-me-home-so-can-I-keep-it_. What's he doing here ... and why didn't the alien proximity alert activate? I stopped in the Control room and checked on my way over here. It's online, but definitely unresponsive."

Skippy opened his mouth before John could. "Hello, Dr. McKay. I believe I can explain. First, I'm what you refer to an Ancient but your proximity alert did not activate because this was my home until the ruling council decided all of us had to abandon it. I was twelve when the city was sunk. I had no choice but to follow my parents and everyone else."

He sighed and continued, sounding more like a sullen teenager than a young adult. "My mother was a chemist and my father an architect. They didn't pay too much attention to what I did or where I went. I was their youngest by many years. I believe they thought I'd just educate myself until I reached the age of majority at which time I was expected to have a profession and behave as a responsible citizen. But I was too bored to conform. I hated seeing how the ruling council ordered my parents and the others around, so I started to escape. I used the official excuse of studying the database to learn about Ascension."

He shuddered momentarily. "I wouldn't even go near any of the Ascension-related devices. I wanted to see if I could do it all by myself." His voice was stronger now, full of pride. "I got to be good enough at it that I could Ascend for a minute and return, without anybody knowing – or at least paying attention."

Rodney rolled his eyes at the young man and groaned. "Terrific. We're being visited by the Pegasus Galaxy's version of Macauley Culkin's 'Home Alone' character."

Skippy looked confused, so John touched his hand. There was a glowy connection between them, but for only a couple of seconds. Skippy turned to face Rodney. "Ah. A quite amusing character from the popular Earth entertainment you refer to but, I assure you, Dr. McKay, I was never in any danger."

Rodney's eye-roll was predictable. "Oh, I'm so relieved to hear that." The sarcasm could have been spread thickly on a cracker.

"If you have the time now, I can tell you more." Skippy grasped John's hand, then tugged him down to the ground, their backs against the railing. He didn't let go.

Rodney shrugged his shoulders before he, too, allowed himself to slide down onto the deck, though more slowly and not without effort. There was no point in standing and tiring himself out as it seemed he was in for a long night. At least there was no noticeable wind.

"I've watched all of you often ever since the expedition arrived. Naturally, I was Ascended at the time but felt something important was going to happen."

Rodney muttered to himself, "Yeah, yeah, you felt a stirring in the force, young Jedi." John glared at him and gave a familiar slashing _'will you shut up'_ signal with his free hand. Surprisingly, Rodney did shut up.

"I was hovering over Atlantis when John came through the ring. And, then, I knew I had to stay. I'd been alone – and lonely – for too many thousands of years. So I watched the expedition. This one and the previous one that had failed but was rescued by your Elizabeth's determination and ingenuity. I've managed to be present in all the time-lines. I've seen how Atlantis became a ship marooned in the desert 48,000 years in your future and how you diverted John from a lonely death by bringing him back to you ... albeit _another_ you, as what you did was more important to you than winning a Nobel Prize or personal happiness and that you would never feel any inner peace again unless you did your utmost."

Rodney startled at the last sentence. Oh, shit. That wasn't supposed to be common knowledge. At least not to John. Not even to his own conscious mind. Which he was so refusing to acknowledge. So he went on the offence, his tongue like a viper's. "So, kid, you've been here during nearly all the time since we arrived and yet you couldn't bother to help us when we were in deep shit." Though his target was twelve (or appeared to have aged to almost twenty) years old, Rodney wasn't about to curb his language. Rodney crossed his arms, another familiar gesture that usually accompanied a look of pissed-off disdain.

Skippy's body glowed and extended to encompass John's hand briefly. Skippy grimaced. "Dr. McKay, if you have learnt anything about the Ancients, then you know they really will not interfere. How did you expect me, as nothing more than a youth stuck in a holding pattern where I was mostly Ascended for 10,000 years, to help. I had no tactical knowledge, no special skills. I just knew how to wink in and out of Atlantis. It was a trick to get me away from my parents and boredom."

Rodney wasn't satisfied with that answer, especially because it had nothing to do with John and whatever he and Skippy had going on. "If that's so, why are you now appearing in physical form so frequently while making John's signal blink out of existence?"

Skippy squeezed John's hand. He took a big breath. "Because this time it wasn't about my feelings. It was about John's. He's been alone all the time you've been here and I know from our joining that the only times he's ever felt connected were briefly with Chaya and with the former members of his team. John needs me now more than ever, so I'm here for him."

Rodney's eyes narrowed. How could anybody – especially a stranger, _this_ stranger – accuse him of not being there for John. It was preposte--

No, he sighed ... it was true. Really, achingly true. When he'd dallied with Jennifer, he'd stood John up – the way one friend stands another up – trading up for romance, for companionship, for regular sex. After all, wasn't that the way of the world? You had your friends ... for a while. Then you grew up – some much later than others ... because genius can't be rushed – at which point you paired off, settled down and saw your friends less and less.

Rodney roused himself from his brief introspective bout. "I didn't realize it was that bad, Sheppard. Why didn't you say anything?" Of course, as soon as the worlds left his mouth, he knew how futile they sounded. Sheppard ... say anything? Other than that he was _fine_? Perhaps he might have said something, but only in yet another galaxy? Perhaps aboard the Destiny with that fool Rush around. And by way of those stupid communications stones. While Rodney was mulling through his words and thoughts, John's left eyebrow had lifted. John appeared to be waiting ... questioning _something_.

Rodney watched as John's lifted eyebrow eventually settled back to its more normal position. To Rodney, he didn't really look all that happy, which didn't make any sense, especially if he was now getting all the glowy sex he'd ever wanted. He continued to watch John's expressions change, flitting over his face, as if he expected Rodney to ... uh ... figure it out for himself.

But Rodney was missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Important ones. Without them, he could arrive at the completely wrong conclusion. Which could wreck the friendship they'd once had ... and could – he hoped – still have again. "Look ... uh ... I may not know everything – Oh, shut up and stop snickering, Colonel Smirky-face. When it comes to you, you're not exactly an open book, unless it's 'War and Peace'. Even then, you're undoubtedly the 57th word on page 267, in the _original_ manuscript in Russian, hidden just for fun under a pile of your dirty laundry. So I should be forgiven for my reluctance to state any hypothesis openly."

Rodney didn't expect Skippy to answer him. "I could help you here, Dr. McKay. You could feel what John's been going through, so that you can better understand him."

John's reaction was startling. He pulled his hand out of Skippy's and stood up suddenly. He seemed to be trying to escape but, at the blunt edge of the pier, there was no escape, except over the railing and into the ocean.

Skippy rose easily – Rodney noted it grumpily as he mumbled about younger _especially on-and-off-Ascended_ bodies – but had no choice but to haul himself up, grunting from the exertion he shouldn't have to endure, certainly not in the middle of the goddamn night.

Apparently cornered, John's eyes were flitting back and forth between the two men. "Skippy – I – you shouldn't have to – is it even possible? I know that I can experience it, ever since Proculus...."

John's voice trailed off, as this was the first time he'd ever really thought about his experiment with Chaya. Or spoken about it. For sure, if Carson had any inkling of how he'd carried on with Chaya, there would have been no end to tests. And telling Elizabeth. Who probably would have given him her patented _Mom_ glare.

Skippy seemed to understand exactly what John was trying to say. "John, I would like to try. And I think I can help you to convey what you feel when you can't put it into words." He turned to face Rodney. "If you're willing, too, Dr. McKay? I would never force this experience unless you are truly open to it."

Rodney first scowled – after all, jealousy wasn't easy to control - but didn't hesitate to reply. "Are you kidding me? The coolest thing since a Vulcan mind-meld – that's not real anyway – so why would I decline? Especially since Sheppard's apparently done it before with that ascended hussy!"

"John would feel what you've felt, too. It's never a unidirectional transfer. Are you really willing, still?"

Rodney waved his hand at Skippy, casually dismissing any worries on his part. He was an open book, well ... mostly. And John seemed to have survived the experience – going all the way back to Chaya – without any ill effects.

Rodney then walked forward, slowly entering John's personal space, not wanting to startle John any more than he was already spooked. He stared into John's eyes. He saw how the uncertainty morphed into brief wariness, before being replaced with resignation and finally acceptance. Rodney's voice was kind. "It's what a true friend would do for another. Right, Kirk?"

John accepted the old tossed-about jibe as a peace offering this time. His voice was equally soft. "The needs of the one, Spock?"

Rodney and John moved closer together. Skippy waited until they were facing one another. "You should touch wherever you feel most comfortable."

John was the first to reach out, grasping Rodney by the upper arms. To his surprise, Rodney's right hand covered his own. It felt ... intimate. Nice.

Then Skippy seemed to flow toward them, his energy surrounding them. They were all glowing. This was mostly familiar to John, and yet not. He couldn't feel Skippy in his mind, but he could feel Rodney. It was as if he were flying – certainly faster than his usual flip answer of 200 mph – through a wormhole connected directly to Rodney's soul.

John felt the tendrils of Rodney's virtual questing fingers, tracing over old hurts, from their shared years on Atlantis – including some bitter animosity - and going backwards to John's childhood. So he let his consciousness seek out Rodney's vulnerability. For a brief moment, John felt too stunned and almost pulled away. He'd really had no idea....

After that one major revelation, John allowed himself to sink deeper. He didn't know if all this _sharing_ was really healthy. It seemed to be going on far longer than it ever had with Skippy. Was it because he was sharing with another human being instead of with an Ancient? Or was Skippy just wanting them to be thorough in their discoveries?

Right now, they seemed to be sharing all of the times they'd nearly lost one another. Such as John's not wordy enough "So long, Rodney" as he prepared to ram his jumper armed with a warhead up the Hive ship's ass.

Or Rodney's panic-stricken face in the middle of the night as he clutched John's arms when – even at the bare-bones level to which his mind had deteriorated from the effects of the parasite – he _never_ forgot John.

But that wasn't the worst of it. They were also experiencing what other Johns, other Rodneys had felt, especially the ones who hadn't survived. That wasn't coming from their thoughts. It was _all_ Skippy's doing. He'd said he could remember all the different time-lines; well, he'd just proved it. In horrifying detail.

Finally the glow eased and was gone. But John still _felt_ Rodney. And right now Rodney was uncomfortable. Really, _really_ uncomfortable. "You okay there, buddy?"

Rodney's eyes were jittery, not meeting John's face. "I – uh – I've really got to go. Now." Rodney's hand fell away as he stumbled backward until there was once again a respectable distance between their bodies. "I – uh – I'll see you later. A lot later." John watched as Rodney's mouth snapped closed and settled into that all-too-familiar thin line of displeasure before Rodney turned and fled.

Oh, fuck. Fuckity-fuck. How was John ever going to fix this? He turned an accusing glare at Skippy. It _was_ all his fault. Well ... mostly all his fault. "How could you do this to us? I've lost him forever. Now I've got nothing. Not even you, because you really should be with your own kind, kid."

John waved his arm dismissively, pointing it at the horizon. "You _can_ go anywhere and you really should. I'm stuck here – and don't mention Ascension – other than that weird _place-holder_ thing you've had with my gene that's allowed you to connect with me here several times over the years."

Skippy's voice was soft ... a bit hesitant. "John, what you felt, what Dr. McKay felt, it's meant to reassure you both, that your lives are intertwined no matter what the time-line is. He's just reacting from the shock to his system, of too much knowledge obtained without the usual filters. He will calm down. He will adjust. I know you will, too." Skippy moved closer, trailing his fingers along John's cheek. "This is not an ending for you, but a beginning. I promise."

John's body relaxed. How could it not, when Skippy touched him, even if he was still irritated. He tried for a nonchalant attitude. "So ... where will you go, now that you can't stay here ... or even visit from time to time? You know Rodney will have every sensor fine-tuned to spot your presence. If the sensor doesn't exist yet, he'll be sure to invent it."

John pretended to pull his gun from its holster and aim it. "If he could, he'd also invent an anti-Ancient weapon to disperse every single glowy molecule of your being. You _do_ know how he can be."

Skippy's laugh broke through the seriousness of the situation. "I do know, John. I believe I will go to Proculus. From my link with you, I know Chaya was incredibly lonely, too. It's no wonder she came to Atlantis when you invited her. I think she and I could be good friends."

John's eyebrow did _that_ thing again. "Friends, huh?"

Skippy nodded. "Yes, John. Just because one Ancient meets another Ancient doesn't mean an automatic connection, as there was between you and me. But friendship is important, is it not?"

John couldn't disagree. Friendship was very important. He only had to hope that his was not too fucked up with Rodney, although he didn't think there was enough blue Jell-O in this galaxy – or any galaxy – to offer an instant fix. He just had to hope for the best.

"So I guess this is goodbye, huh?" John was going for a light-hearted attitude, but it was difficult to say goodbye. It always had been.

Skippy's laugh was bright. "In the scheme of all things, John Sheppard, no goodbye is ever final." He brought his fingers up to John's eyes, easing them closed. There was another glowy moment. A whispered "Remember". When John next opened his eyes, he was alone. And felt a lot colder. Yet there was no wind.

~ ~ ~

After spending the rest of the night in his quarters, but unable to sleep though trying not to think about _why_ he couldn't, John finally got up and went for a run that would have worn even Ronon out. A long hot shower and a healthy double breakfast that had the servers in the mess giving him odd looks led to morning staff. Where Rodney was conspicuous by his absence. In his place was a flustered Radek who explained that Rodney was in the middle of something vitally important. Much too busy to attend a meeting that should not have been Radek's responsibility. Radek's apology trailed off into mumbling. "But who am I to challenge _Krol_ Rodney, when I am but humble minion to King?"

John's mind was whirling. If Rodney had been so affected by the revelations that he wouldn't even attend to his normal administrative duties, that was bad. John glanced over at Alma who'd raised a questioning eyebrow. He had to think quickly. "Uh, sorry. Rodney and I have been working late for several nights. It has to do with unorthodox strategic defence capabilities. I guess he must have had a breakthrough."

He sighed in relief as Alma turned to Radek and asked for his report instead. John knew that Rodney couldn't behave this way for more than a day or two. He'd have to come out of hiding eventually. But John didn't want to spook the man.

However, John needn't have worried about Rodney. To his astonishment, he received an e-mail from Rodney in the afternoon. The first thing that stunned him was that Rodney thanked him. Thanked _him_ for coming up with a quick excuse because, of course, Radek would have reported every word to Rodney.

The second was Rodney's suggestion that they use the convenient excuse that John had already manufactured to get away from the city, just the two of them. They were both due personal time off and, as it was late December back on Earth, not much was happening to detain them on Atlantis.

As the planet John had landed the city on this time had seasons that corresponded roughly to those on Earth, it was cold and usually snowing. The Athosians had resettled – yet again – onto the nearest large land mass and had built more permanent shelters, necessary to keep them warm and dry.

One of those shelters was a remote hunting lodge at the base of a mountain. At this time of year it would be unoccupied. John continued to read the e-mail, getting that Rodney wanted them to take a 'jumper to the lodge where nobody would disturb them.

This was either a very good idea or a spectacularly bad one. Even if Rodney did want to get away with him, he still didn't know what to expect when the two of them were alone. Didn't know how Rodney would react.

But one of John's trademarks was being brave in the face of unbeatable odds. So, if he had to go up against Rodney and his unpredictable reactions, he'd do it.

~ ~ ~

John should not have been surprised to see that Rodney had already drafted a proposal and – with his agreement – sent it off to Alma, cc: Evan, Clarice, Radek and Miko. Carson, too, just in case he wanted to give them an extra flu shot before they departed. Or just to wave his big needles as a genuinely _friendly_ reminder.

John didn't know what to expect from Rodney, but was actually relieved they'd be off the city during the holiday lull back on Earth. He hadn't been in a festive mood before and had barely play-acted the role of a worry-free military commander on a base teeming with an expanded population.

He and Rodney had sent each other lists of what to bring and had packed their usual assortment of games. John supposed it was Rodney's way of telling John that – if things got to be too strained between them – they could always fall back on a convenient chess match or movie to lessen tensions.

John was surprised to see that Rodney was not bringing a month's supply of MREs for the week they would be away. Instead, he noted the inclusion of baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables, eggs, breads, cheeses and a freezer chest of chicken, fish, steaks and pies. Nothing fancy, just food that could be prepared in a pot or grilled on a rack placed directly over the fire.

They wouldn't need bottled water, as there was a stream from the mountains right behind the lodge. John figured it would be his duty to fetch water every morning because Rodney would be the last person he expected to stomp those few feet through the snow without bitching all the way. Especially for that all-important first pot of coffee.

John added a case of wine to the provisions, including a personal parting gift from Woolsey. Depending on how his getaway with Rodney progressed, they'd either be toasting each other on their last night, or drowning their shared bitterness. If they were still talking at all. John hoped it wouldn't be that bad.

~ ~ ~

**Day One:** The 'jumper was packed, they were dressed in warm-weather gear and ready to take off. All their goodbyes had been said and it was time to leave the confines of the city.

However, John was puzzled to see how stiffly Rodney held himself on the quick journey by 'jumper over to the hunting lodge, how little there was of their traditional banter. Based on the exchange of e-mails, John had thought this trip would have been a piece of cake.

Based on his own experiences with Rodney in the past, John should not have underestimated him. But he had. In one way, it was the reasonable tone of Rodney's e-mails that should have alerted John to the fact that Rodney was holding back.

Still, after John landed the 'jumper, they were both busy unloading and storing the provisions away. John noted that Rodney had left his sleeping bag rolled up in the corner of the main room so left his there also. John decided it wasn't worth the hassle to crowd or rush Rodney, even though they'd always shared accommodations when off-world.

The first evening meal they shared was strained, after the uncommunicative journey and chores that had been accomplished in near silence. John wasn't used to silence – not from Rodney of all people. After he had drawn water from the stream and Rodney had chopped wood (John had caught a glimpse of the axe swinging down from those powerful shoulders), they'd prepared dinner, still in silence. At least the food was good: thick steaks grilled over the fire with potatoes aka tormack baked in the embers and sautéed mushrooms, accompanied by a Shiraz.

Once they'd eaten and had a couple of glasses of wine each, John noticed Rodney unwinding. It seemed like a good time to talk. "I know this is not what we're here to discuss, but have you figured out who might have set you and Richard up?"

Rodney's startled eyes darted up to his face. "Why would you say something like that?"

John drawled, "Come on, Rodney. Think about it. It's obvious. Why would the SGC recall both you and Woolsey all the way from Pegasus to first take a _stoned_ journey over to the Destiny – where you bitched you only got to meet Eli, the wonder-kid, and not the great Rush himself – and then travel to Langara. Were they all out of scientists at the Mountain that week? Everyone sick with the flu? Nobody else could create a dialling program? Face it. They were protecting their own. Woolsey drew the short straw to be made a scapegoat only because they knew we needed you back here, so you'd get your hand slapped but not much more. I know that, Alma knows that and I figured you should, too."

Rodney slumped back in his chair. "Fuck. And here I'd been thinking it was a personal failure, like a sequel to Doranda."

"They could have exchanged you for any other scientist, but I think it's because you're Canadian. The IOA's international members have been bugging the SGC to lose the top-heavy American presence on Atlantis and this was the perfect opportunity. And it might have looked a bit too weird if it had been another American along with Dick. I'm not saying that Alma's anybody's mouthpiece but the one thing she's not is definitely an American."

Rodney nodded. "That she isn't. But if you're right – and I don't doubt it now you've mentioned it – we're going to have a new problem, unless you and I think of how to explain our little Skippy problem. But, first, I need coffee. Dessert, too."

John got up and cleared away the dishes. "You stay. I'll bring you a cup. I think I saw some apple pie. Okay?"

Rodney chuckled. "Isn't your choice of pie ironically symbolic?"

"You know, sometimes a piece of pie is just dessert, not a geopolitical commentary."

Only after they'd had a couple of cups of coffee (well, Rodney had four) and pie, did they clear away the table and start to talk seriously, though John suggested they move to sit in front of the fireplace.

"I'll admit, Sheppard, that until you'd made me see how this is a ploy to dilute the American presence on Atlantis, I was willing to let you twist in the wind with your little Skippy problem."

John grimaced. "Geeze, Rodney, you're all heart. But why do we need to reveal it at all? Can't it be just between the two of us?"

Rodney sighed. "If Atlantis hadn't been breeched by an Ancient, it could have been. But I'm bound to report it to Alma, considering I'm still in the doghouse. So we just have to figure out how to diminish your involvement. Then I show how I found the glitch and we got Skippy off Atlantis."

Rodney snapped his fingers in rapid succession. "I've got it. Every time Skippy came to visit you, you were asleep and thought you were dreaming. You can't be held responsible if you're asleep. There actually is legal precedence for a sleep-walking defence." He paused for a moment, then smiled confidently. "You know, this could actually work."

Rodney stood and began to pace, thinking and talking through his plan. "After I demonstrate how my algorithm worked on you, I could argue that it should be implemented throughout Atlantis and on all SGC missions. Having an early detection system against kidnappings – hello, remember the rogue Asgard – would aid in speedier recovery efforts. Anyway, I figure we can turn your Ancient dallying into a winning point for us."

The two men talked about strategy for a couple of hours, with Rodney's fingers flying over the keyboard as he tried to capture the vital buzzwords in their proposal.

They finally ran out of words, tired from their physical exertions earlier and relaxed from the food and wine. Though Rodney did seem less stressed, John didn't know how he'd react to the subject of sleeping arrangements.

John glanced over at Rodney whose head seemed to be nodding sideways, sliding against the warm, sturdy cushions. "Hey, buddy. How about we stretch out in front of the fire and get some sleep?" John's voice had been gentle, soft.

In response, Rodney's eyes were mere slits. He waved his presumably agreeing hand, though it sure looked floppy, as if even that was too much of an exertion.

John chuckled and rose. He added more wood to the fire before grabbing the sleeping bags. After he'd managed to slide a pliant Rodney off the low couch and into his, he turned all the oil lamps off save one, then carried two cups and a pitcher of water to the small table near them. Finally John was in his own bag, glancing over at Rodney who already seemed to be asleep. He whispered "Goodnight" but received nothing but even breathing as a reply.

Except for a couple of heart-stopping moments during the night when the silence – no soothing waves nor a murmuring Atlantis - had confused him, John slept well, especially when he'd glanced over at the Rodney-shaped lump in the sleeping bag and saw no evidence of distress. It helped that he and Rodney were at least talking, even if it had been about politics and the idiots in the IOA. But it was a start.

**Day Two:** The next day was cold and crisp but the sun was a cheery sight. John knew that he and Rodney still hadn't faced what Skippy had shared with them. Even though they had the entire week, John didn't want to have this hanging over their heads the entire time. So distracting Rodney – always a fun thing – was the order of the day. And how better than to get a sputtering, red-faced Rodney to go for a nature walk with him. In the snow. The only thing John was worried about was whether Rodney would kill him if he threw a snowball. After John had enticed Rodney with sunny-side up eggs and the Pegasus equivalent of crisp bacon – with the obligatory buttered toast and coffee – they set out.

When they reached the mountain stream, Rodney had to admit it was a peaceful vista. He mentioned to John that it reminded him of a few summers – before he'd gone off to university – up in Northern Ontario (which he tried to explain to John was a _different_ kind of North than Fort McMurray, his place of birth in Alberta) where it was still possible to forget that there was electricity and modern conveniences, especially when one was surrounded by pristine lakes and towering forests. Rodney wondered whether current New Lantea sheltered any loon-like birds in its waters and suggested it might actually be a good idea to return in the warmer months to check out the waterfowl and fishing. Rodney knew that Carson for one would love the opportunity.

When they returned to the lodge a couple of hours later, their flasks of hot chocolate empty, the small Athosian cakes devoured, Rodney was in fact red-faced, but it was simply the rosy-cheeked exuberance from having been outside where he'd enjoyed himself despite his original misgivings. To his credit, John had refrained from throwing even a single snowball. On the other hand, John figured he might still have an opportunity to get Rodney later in the week.

After a hot shower and a change of clothes, John built up the fire and prepared turkey sandwiches and tomato soup while Rodney was having his own shower. John knew they needed to talk. After lunch. When Rodney came out, he was still rubbing his hair with a towel. John motioned him over to the fireplace. They didn't need a table if it was just sandwiches and mugs of soup.

Too soon the food was gone and John had no other delaying tactics up his sleeve. He began, hesitating, "You know, we really should talk about what Skippy showed us."

Rodney sighed. "I know we shouldn't keep putting it off, no matter how many times you might drag me out for a 'special' commune with nature."

John smiled, despite himself, because Rodney had used air quotes. Then he became serious. "You know we don't have to go through it all in one go. I don't think Skippy meant to hurt us. But I think it would be a valuable source of information that we could give Alma and the SGC."

Okay, so that had surprised Rodney who sounded sceptical. "What kind of information? Just how could our deaths have an impact ... other than my brilliance or your customary idiotic self-sacrificing no longer being a constant in keeping Atlantis and everyone there alive?"

"Just think of it Rodney. Sure, we know about the deaths we avoided so far - but what about our deaths in the future? If we can remember enough details, like gate addresses, how old we think we looked, the people we were dealing with, then we can try to avoid some of those situations, or at least be on our guard to expect problems."

Rodney blinked his eyes a few times, then nodded his head. "You know, Sheppard, this could work. And now we have a historical source of preventive security for Alma's consideration. And," he grinned, "another reason for Alma not to chew you out, or not as much."

John felt relieved that Rodney seemed to be looking at this as a strategic exercise while helping John, though he was sure Rodney was deflecting the fear and sadness of so many of the situations they'd been forced to share in their joint visions.

~ ~ ~

They'd been talking for hours. John's throat hurt, even though he'd replenished the mugs of strong tea sweetened with an Athosian apricot-like nectar. He made sure that Rodney kept drinking as well. They'd been so busy talking that stopping to make dinner seemed irrelevant. So John grabbed some cookies and fruit, so they'd have at least something to distract them occasionally while they recalled the memories.

John closed his eyes and allowed his head to thump back against the cushion. He knew which memory Rodney was avoiding bringing to the surface. He was right. It was probably the worst one of all the probabilities, though none of them was pleasant, not where death was concerned.

They'd already shared the explosive deaths: when John had not been miraculously beamed from the bomb-laden 'jumper headed toward the Hive ship was #1. And when the Daedalus hadn't shown up to rescue them, they'd both been blown up by the Arcturus device, that was #2. At least those deaths had been instantaneous.

The experience of being fed on by Todd several times – including the last time when he hadn't restored John's life – had exhausted them both. But John was surprised to experience Rodney's drowning death when the first expedition had failed with a curious detachment. Unless he was also feeling that Rodney had already dissociated himself from that inevitable death ... because who ever focuses that much on dying, even presumably someone with finely-honed instincts for self-preservation as Rodney.

On the other hand, the seemingly quiet deaths of the entire Team aboard the Daedalus felt almost painless, especially after Teyla had whispered calming words and prayers. Well, at least she got to observe her important Athosian ritual before she died. Though it was a surprise to see that Ronon did carry ... uh ... _illegal_ substances tucked into his clothing. John was sure that Rodney had appreciated Ronon's lethargy-inducing drugs more than Teyla's prayers.

Then came the more taxing deaths. John had to admit feeling himself starve to death all alone 48,000 years into the future was no stroll in the park. Evidently this was a reality where Jennifer hadn't died and had succeeded in dissuading Rodney from pursuing his obsession to bring John back. John couldn't activate the DHD because there wasn't enough power to the 'gate. Even if there had been power, where would he have gated, not knowing _when_ he was or whether other worlds had dried up too? He couldn't make it to the 'jumper bay because of the piled-up sand. Or even to the stasis pods. Though those just seemed like a way to delay an inevitable death, not to escape it. He didn't want to end up an even creepier preserved corpse.

But then he'd felt such sadness after witnessing Rodney's efforts in trying to change the time-line, to get him back. After Rodney had made it onto Atlantis and installed his special hologram, he'd meekly returned to Earth and faded into nothingness. True, he was alive but less than a year later he was dead. The obit had said "natural causes" but John knew there had never been anything "natural" about Rodney, only _extraordinary_. It seemed that Rodney had lost the will to live without purpose. Rescuing John had been his purpose and he'd fulfilled it – in another time-line separated by a barrier even his genius could not breech.

Suddenly, John felt that more talking and sharing of the worst experience would do them both no good. He already felt wrung out about how some of his hidden feelings for Rodney had bled out in the way he'd described how he'd died. And he also felt how deep Rodney's feelings for him had been. They'd had a good start and Rodney had been careful in extracting as many identifying details as possible. This next one, it could wait for another evening. When John suggested an early night, he wasn't surprised to get no objection from Rodney.

**Day Three:** When they woke up on a slightly grey day, after a hearty breakfast to make up for the previous day's austere meals, they continued to catalogue as many of the future deaths as possible. To John's surprise, Rodney was handling them remarkably well. It seemed as if it was far easier to deal with not-yet-happened deaths than those that had, even if they themselves had lived through them.

It was also an exercise in seeing how well people continued to thrive in Atlantis. Not only that, but the idea of mapping out the puzzle pieces from future travel throughout the Pegasus galaxy intrigued them both. That pleased Rodney, because now he also had a navigational component to present to Alma (presumably along with a barely-suppressed shout of "Ha!").

They worked independently first, Rodney on his tablet and John writing in a notebook. After another quick lunch of roast beast sandwiches, they shared what they'd each remembered individually, filling in any hazy details. Once again, John was pleased to see how well Rodney was coping, processing their past deaths. Then again, as they themselves weren't _actually_ dead, it was a moot point. John figured the whole thing could turn into a fascinating philosophical discussion. He might see if Teyla would be willing to indulge him upon their return to Atlantis.

After Rodney had finished transcribing John's notes onto his laptop, he saved his work and copied it onto a flash drive. With all of their efforts (not to forget shared pain), the last thing Rodney wanted was to experience a stupid equipment failure.

Having worked through the daylight hours, John thought they needed to have some R&R, so suggested either chess or a movie for after dinner. He wasn't surprised when Rodney turned down the chess game. They didn't bother eating at the table, but balanced their plates piled with grilled shishkabobs and cheese doodles (John had discovered that not _everything_ Rodney had brought was on the healthy side) on their laps while they watched "The Sound of Music" which had been Rodney's unexpected choice.

Rodney was embarrassed to admit that he'd been inspired by them being near a snowy mountain and in a kind of chalet, so had chosen the musical deliberately before they'd left Atlantis. John couldn't stop laughing for many minutes; Rodney eventually began to laugh as well. But, the dorks they were, they sang along with the familiar songs.

John thought his yodel was _spectacular_. Rodney screeched in disagreement though managed to shut up only because John had stuffed a spoonful of butterscotch pudding in his mouth!

That night seemed to be the most relaxed for both of them. Before they fell asleep, they kept humming or whistling back and forth in their sleeping bags until they were exhausted. Sleep easily claimed them both.

**Day Four:** The next morning, after a quick meal, John suggested they go out again for a walk. Rodney grumbled and grunted, but gave in, especially when John used his patented puppy-dog look. He reminded Rodney that having a few days off was a terrific opportunity to do something different. While living on Atlantis was a unique experience, so was having a wilderness adventure without any wild animals, avalanches or any other dangers. It was also possible that the Swiss chocolate bar he produced may have persuaded Rodney that a walk, followed by the consumption of said chocolate, was a very good idea.

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, no snowballs were made or thrown, though Rodney agreed it was a terrific idea to bring the various teams over during the winter, especially for team bonding. John added that, if any war games broke out, the ammunition would be plentiful and not so hazardous. Or as messy as paintball.

When they returned to the lodge, John produced not one but two of the chocolate bars, so they could each mumble around the luscious melting sensation in their mouths. Along with some mixed nuts and fruit, Rodney found he was quite satisfied with the snack instead of a proper lunch.

They decided on a late dinner after playing three and a half games of chess in the afternoon and then taking brief naps. John couldn't recall the last time he'd been able to indulge in a nap and, no, being holed up in the Infirmary hopped up on the good drugs didn't come close to counting as a nap.

After their naps, they felt energized enough to create a hearty meal of roast not-a-chicken, potatoes (again of the tormack variety) and carrots. Rodney grinned as he produced the hidden can of cranberry sauce as well as a can opener. They toasted each other with a Merlot and added to the chocolate-overload experience with a rich cake.

Though they did air out the chalet every day, enough pleasant aromas lingered to make John especially feel as if this were their home. He could still surprise himself with such an honest observation and tried not to let it scare him too much.

After their exuberant day, John hoped he could broach the death they'd both been avoiding. And that they'd still be able to get to sleep afterwards. It had to be the worst and it had lingered in his mind since the meld with Skippy. Though the illness and death had meant mere weeks for Rodney, the experience had coloured the rest of that John's natural life. After they'd settled themselves on the couch, he turned to Rodney and began speaking.

~ ~ ~

> He remembered walking toward the Stargate, holding Rodney's hand. At this point, Rodney had reverted to the age of two or three. Not even a genius-Rodney level two or three, because the inquisitive factor was entirely depleted. The parasite had continued to expand steadily, leaving Rodney in constant excruciating pain. Bad enough for an adult. Impossible for someone with the limited comprehension of a small child.
> 
> John gritted his teeth. He remembered how Dr. Fucking Useless Keller had refused to accept a properly-filed Medical POA where Rodney had indicated John as Rodney's proxy years ago. She'd protested, said it was "highly improper". Then she'd put an emergency call in through to the SGC so they could bully a pliant, childlike Rodney back to Earth when she couldn't do anything with conventional medical techniques.
> 
> In that reality, there had been no Woolsey sympathetic to Ronon's story about his grandfather and Second Childhood disease, or open to the Pegasus legend of the Shrine. In fact, Teyla and Ronon were routinely dismissed by the latest expedition leader (some nameless weasel-faced IOA flunky) as being irrelevant to the needs and goals of Earth's people. Even worse, in that reality, Rodney had never reconciled with Jeannie, so she wasn't there to override Keller's bureaucratic and medical incompetence.
> 
> Just before they stepped through to Earth, Rodney looked up solemnly at John and whispered, "Will it hurt?"
> 
> John couldn't bear the thought of Rodney being afraid of something else he'd forgotten, so he'd squeezed Rodney's hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "Nah, it'll be fun. You'll like it."
> 
> Rodney stared at him, his round blue eyes full of trust. "'Kay, J-J-John, 'kay."
> 
> John couldn't believe it, even now. Though Rodney had forgotten nearly everything else, stuttering voice and all, he still remembered John.
> 
> Then they stepped through, straight into Hell.
> 
> When they emerged at the SGC, Rodney was shrieking, stumbling, writhing on the floor while clutching at his head. John had fallen to his knees when Rodney had pulled away, so he had a front-row seat to the horror.
> 
> Then, there was nothing but a hideous silence, because Rodney wasn't moving. Or breathing. The med team that had been on standby to escort Rodney to the Infirmary tried to revive him, but there was nothing to revive. The parasite had expanded too quickly in the time it had taken to move from Pegasus to the Milky Way. Rodney – Rodney was gone. Forever.
> 
> Despite the insistence of the med team and doctors, John – in an ice-cold voice - had refused permission for an autopsy to be conducted. He still had the Medical POA with him and threatened to call down the wrath of Sheppard Industries' legal teams, confidentiality agreements be damned. The only concession he made was to allow a couple of non-invasive scans made of Rodney's brain and body. For the official record. Not once did he leave Rodney's side until the med teams had departed.
> 
> Then he was left alone, to deal with post-mortem preparations. And the repercussions to his own life. 

~ ~ ~

John's breathing and heart-rate had increased as he truly felt Rodney's final moments of searing pain for the first time. It hadn't even registered when Skippy had shared all of these deaths, one after another. But now, this grotesque death was set apart, with its layers peeled away to reveal the unimaginable. When the pain subsided to a dull ache in his head, only then did he hear the sound of muffled sobbing. Looking down, John saw Rodney's body curling in on itself, shivering despite the heat from the fire.

John pulled the trembling body into his arms. He hadn't realized until then that there were silent tears streaming down his own face. God. He'd never cried before in his entire life. Not even at his mother's funeral. He knew his father wouldn't have permitted it ... but still. Nor the times when he was captured, then tortured. He'd gotten really good at suppressing his feelings, year after year. But this time ... it was different.

He pushed his wet face into Rodney's chest as he tightened his arms, his thumbs rubbing slow soothing patterns onto the soft grey cotton stretched over Rodney's back.

Rodney's sobs had ebbed until he was mostly just taking in shnuffling gulps of air. "For the record, I never want to feel that death – or any of them – again. At least my only consolation is that, before that parasite obliterated my brain, you were the last thing I saw."

John lifted his own head to look into Rodney's reddened eyes. "I'm with you there, buddy. It may be the only time you hear me say 'I felt your pain'. So I'm agreed. No more dying for either of us." He chuckled weakly. "I'll bet the SGC already has a special retroactive _dead/not dead_ form for the occasion, named after Daniel Jackson."

Rodney sniffed in disdain. "Of course they would. With many revisions to suit each circumstance. There's probably a dedicated filing cabinet just for him."

John moved his hands until they were on either side of Rodney's head. This was a scary move, especially for him. But he needed to show Rodney something important. "I know you don't want to see or experience what happened to either or both of us dying ever again. I agree. I'm sick to death of death. But Skippy left me a little parting present. I really want to share it with you, if you'll let me." John took a deep breath before letting it out. "Rodney, do you trust me?"

Rodney's answer should have come as no surprise after everything they'd experienced over the years. But hearing it still stunned John. "More than anyone else, John."

"Okay, hold my hand."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Does this mean we're going steady? You should know I'm not that easy. Even if you are the re-re-rebooted equal-opportunity version of Kirk."

John burst out laughing. "You? Easy? Maybe when you're doped up on chocolate and coffee and near-coma-sleepy in a major way. Now, will you shut up and just hold my hand?" John reached out and brought Rodney's hand toward his chest. Each could feel the other's heartbeat and unexpected heat.

"Forget about all the dying or nearly dying. Forget about the searing pain. I want you to see what happened _after_ you died in the SGC Gate room. Just stay with me. I promise you it'll be worth it."

~ ~ ~

> John replayed the memory that was his but not _his_. He remembered the intense focus of buying an expensive charcoal suit, one that would highlight Rodney's broad chest and strong shoulders. He'd even chosen a striped plum shirt and complementary smoky plum silk tie for him. Even if Rodney couldn't appreciate the little touches, John thought they were important. Paying his own final respects, as it were.
> 
> Then he remembered donning his dress blues for the last time. He'd called in a favour from Dave. There was no way John was having Rodney travel on a commercial or, even worse, military flight.
> 
> The driver pulled up in front of a medium-sized house on a large lot. John noted immediately that the grass hadn't been cut in a while. Weeds were sprouting everywhere. There was an overturned rusting bicycle with training wheels on the path. He sidestepped it neatly. When the door opened to his knock, he hadn't been surprised by the vivid blue eyes, but the blond curls were ... _different_. "Uh ... Ms. Jean Miller?"
> 
> The woman opened the door wider. John could see another inquisitive blond head belonging to a little girl peeking out from behind it. "I go by McKay these days. Jeannie McKay."
> 
> John's reaction was polite. "Oh, I'm sorry."
> 
> Jeannie's response was curt. "I'm not. Listen, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what is this about? I'm in no condition to be standing on my feet for a long time."
> 
> John's eyes travelled over her very pregnant belly as discreetly as possible. What a time for him to be complicating the woman's life.
> 
> "My name is Col. John Sheppard. I worked with your brother."
> 
> Jeannie's nose wrinkled in confusion. "Huh. Haven't heard from Mer in years. What kind of trouble has he gotten into this time? It's been decades since the bomb thing." Only then did she peer over John's shoulder. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, but her eyes couldn't blink away the sudden tears. "Is that...? Oh my God. Sorry, sorry, but I really need to sit down. Please ... come in."
> 
> She opened the door wider as she turned to the little girl. "Maddie, honey, it's all right. Why don't you go play in your room? Mommy will have lunch ready in a little while."
> 
> John followed Jeannie into a cluttered living room. It looked as if it had been a nice room with well-made furnishings at one time, suited to the pleasant neighbourhood. But now there were moving boxes stacked against one wall. The only surface not covered by papers was the couch, so John had no choice but to sit down next to Jeannie, laying his cover on top of the least precarious pile stacked on the coffee table.
> 
> "How did it happen?"
> 
> John had prepared himself for the question. Stick to the truth as much as possible. "He came down with a brain infection. By the time we got advanced medical help, it was too late. It was--"
> 
> Here, John had to stop to take a deep breath. He knew he was lying, but there was no reason to take out any of his frustration or anger on Jeannie. "His death was very quick."
> 
> Jeannie, he noted, was no fool. Well, no sister of Rodney's would be. Her caustic voice cut through him like one of Ronon's special knives. "I see you didn't say 'painless'."
> 
> There was too much hurt in John's eyes, so he closed them momentarily. His reply was strained. "No, I didn't."
> 
> "And now you brought him here."
> 
> He swept a hand through his ragged hair. "We worked on a remote base. Rodney's colleagues were his friends. I was honoured to be his closest friend. I also held his POA and Medical POA. I didn't know where else to go."
> 
> "No, it's okay. I'm glad you did. I always wondered what happened to him after he moved to the States, especially since he stopped talking to me when I got married and pregnant for the first time. Well, look at me now. I guess the only thing missing is me hearing him gloat and say 'I told you so'."
> 
> John laid a tentative hand over hers, interrupting. "You'd be surprised. I don't think he'd be as judgemental as you think. He had many loyal friends where we worked and risked his life to save the base the first month we were there."
> 
> Jeannie startled. "Mer risked his life? Are we really talking about my brother?" She waved a hand, disconcerted. "Not that it matters much now, considering he's gone. And I've got to move out of here ... find a place for Maddie, myself, and the twins on the way."
> 
> John looked uncomfortable. "I know it's none of my business, but what happened to Kaleb?"
> 
> Jeannie's bark of laughter was bitter. "What happened to that bastard was his T.A. But not before I got pregnant again. Sure, he left me the house in the divorce settlement but, without a job, I can't afford to keep it. Taxes in this neighbourhood are murder."
> 
> "Where will you go?" John's voice was warm, concerned.
> 
> "A friend offered me a basement flat until I find a place of my own. I know it'll be cramped with three kids, but it's all I can manage right now." Jeannie waved at the moving boxes. "I'm putting this stuff into storage. Well, okay, my friend is, whenever she has a spare moment. I'm not too good with the whole standing and lifting thing right now."
> 
> "I'm sorry if I'm adding to your burden."
> 
> "No. Don't be. It's okay. Even if we weren't close, it's good to hear that Mer had friends, good friends. So ... are you taking care of...?" She waved a hand in the vague direction of the window.
> 
> "If I couldn't find you, I was prepared to make all the arrangements on my own. But I don't want to step on your toes."
> 
> "No, it's okay. Really ... okay. Everything is such a mess in my life right now. I'd appreciate the help."
> 
> John remembered the rest of the afternoon. How they'd chosen a funeral home to which he'd directed the hearse. How John had invited Jeannie and Madison to move into the Panoramic Harbourview Suite he'd booked in the Pan Pacific Hotel at Canada Place while they planned Rodney's memorial service. How big Madison's eyes got as she saw the trademark sails adorning the hotel and cruise terminal, not to mention bouncing merrily on a king-sized bed in the room she and Jeannie were sharing, adjoining his. John figured Maddie would have been affected more than Jeannie by the divorce, especially processing it as a kid. She might not know about the infidelity – John hoped to God she didn't – but she'd still feel as if her daddy had abandoned _her_. And it seemed he had, considering how bad things were for Jeannie.
> 
> John remembered the familiar faces that had attended the viewing days. Though he'd resigned his commission after Rodney had died, he'd held back from charging Keller with professional misconduct. It wouldn't have brought Rodney back to life. But he'd made a deliberate point to exclude her from the invitation. He couldn't imagine how Jeannie would have reacted to her, even without the knowledge of an alien parasite as the cause of her brother's death. But if she'd heard that this particular doctor had not followed every avenue (even folklore), there would have been sparks flying, if not an actual case of entirely justified arson. Or homicide.
> 
> They came in waves, every day a different group. John knew they had to be gating through and then being transported to Vancouver by whatever ship was in orbit. He didn't think it was exorbitant, felt that Rodney deserved the respect, the recognition. John had coerced the SGC to locate Teyla and Ronon so they could be at the memorial along with most of the senior staff. So Radek, Miko and Evan were there. As was Carson who, though a clone, had been reinstated as head of Medicine on Atlantis. John was surprised - though shouldn't have been - to see the many others from Atlantis who had attended to pay their respects, Prominent by their absence were members of the IOA and SGC. John had not invited them. But John kept the personal letter of condolence he'd received from Jack O'Neill. The two of them had some unique shared experiences and John couldn't dismiss him with the same contempt he felt for the current bureaucratic assholes in charge.
> 
> John remembered giving the eulogy and how inadequate he'd felt for the task. It reminded him of the time Rodney had expected to die – so many years ago – from the Ascension device and how John did not want to do it then either. Afterwards, he'd allowed Ronon and Teyla to gather him in a hug. He'd turned to Jeannie to include her, Madison as well. They needed to be together.
> 
> Then it was all over. It was just the three of them - John, Jeannie and Maddie - alone in the suite. The memories came faster now, skipping weeks, then months, at a time. Professional movers packing up Jeannie's possessions. John finding them an even nicer five-bedroom home in the same neighbourhood. Between the sale of Jeannie's old house and his back pay, they could afford it.
> 
> Madison going on play-dates accompanied by her _Uncle_ John who was a great hit, especially since he made the best goofy faces and loved being around kids.
> 
> Jeannie finally giving birth to a girl and a boy. John may not have been the first to hold them, but he was the second. Jeannie naming the girl Jessica after a favourite aunt and the boy Rodney.
> 
> Now there were gaps of years. Toddlers gleefully crawling in a playpen as John minded them, entertaining them with his guitar and reading them stories set in outer space.
> 
> Jessica playing softball as John and Jeannie cheered from the stands. Though little Rodney never showed up, claiming like his namesake that his skin was too fair, he made sure to record all of his sister's wins on a large chart taped to the kitchen wall.
> 
> John and Rodney-the-younger building model planes before taking them out into the backyard on test flights, Jeannie standing on the stoop shading her eyes from the sun while watching the planes soaring over the rooftop where they'd get wedged so that John would inevitably have to drag the ladder out and climb up to retrieve the wayward planes, grumbling with every step.
> 
> Eventually the toy planes morphing into real ones, as John took Rodney with him whenever he could during his downtime, as he'd gotten work flying supplies to the Arctic, something John thought was funny, going from one ass end of the Earth to the other, but still flying.
> 
> John becoming a Canadian citizen as Jeannie nagged him that it was high time he became "official". And, as soon as he had sworn the oath of citizenship, he'd shared the news when he visited Rodney's grave. John knew the location of the body was irrelevant, but sometimes it felt good to be somewhere where Rodney's name (thankfully, John had persuaded Jeannie to shorten "Meredith" to simply "M.") was inscribed in stone. A solid reminder of the man he'd been.
> 
> Then it was Jessica going into Phys. Ed. while now not-so-little Rodney entered the Faculty of Music, both at UBC. Jessica coaching at the Olympics. Rodney composing music, his latest being "Pegasus in Flight", a work for his own chamber choir.
> 
> Madison was already a successful architect. She'd always reminded John that it was staying at Canada Place that had inspired her imagination. Well, that and all the Legos she could spend her allowance on.
> 
> Now it was maybe a decade later. The basement transformed into a lab. Jeannie scribbling formulae on whiteboards, John trailing behind her while dutifully keeping track of the math. He knew Rodney would have been so proud of his sister for returning to what she excelled in.
> 
> Another decade. Scenes of Stockholm. Jeannie being awarded the Nobel in Physics, thanking both John and her late brother, Dr. M. Rodney McKay, for the opportunity to follow in his brilliant footsteps. The rapid blinking of John's eyes was the only sign he was emotionally overwhelmed and wishing Rodney could have been at his side.
> 
> Then the memories began to slow down. John, with a head full of white hair still in familiar disarray, lying in bed in his by now familiar bedroom, decades-old model planes (the same ones once stuck on the roof) suspended from the ceiling, listening to "Pegasus in Flight", trying not to cough too loudly as "Gram" Jeannie with kids and grandkids surrounded him and read him stories until he managed to fall into a troubled sleep.
> 
> More sounds of weak but relentless coughing and then sudden darkness. Until the sun rose revealing clear blue skies.

~ ~ ~

John had been so engrossed in the not-a-memory that he didn't feel Rodney's nails digging into his hand until the vision of clear blue skies faded from his mind and he was back in the present.

Rodney's voice was strained, but at least he released some of the painful pressure on John's hand. "Shit, John. You wasted the rest of your life ... because of me."

John released Rodney's hand, but only so he could grab him up by the upper arms and push him back far enough away so they could see eye-to-eye. "Don't be a moron, Rodney. Because of you, I got to have a life. It it hadn't been for you, and losing you, I would have most likely died a bitter, lonely man, and that's not discounting whether or not I would have survived back on Atlantis without you. Because of you, I got to have a family again, one I could influence so that they wouldn't be fucked up the way you and I were by our families. Remember, I may have been married to Nancy, but that was something I did out of false hope and for all the wrong reasons. Just think about it. The kids loved Jeannie and they loved me. I ended up adopting them all formally, including Maddie. But that was only after Jeannie swore off dating again. Besides, any guys who'd come by were intimidated, if not by me, then by three growing kids. The kids didn't have to run away from an unhappy home life to go to college. They had offers from everywhere, especially _little_ Rodney. Full scholarships from Julliard, Salzburg, Vienna and more. Everybody wanted him, but he thought the most important thing in his life was love. He showed that love in every note he composed."

Rodney's voice was surprisingly steady. "But what about you, John? Where was your love?"

John was silent, far longer than felt comfortable. Finally, he lifted his right hand from Rodney's arm, so he could press his palm against his own heart. "In here, whether you had the mental capacity of a two-year old or were the crotchety, sweater-clad geezer – oh, by the way, you now know I lied, because you still had all your hair - who'd dedicated himself to bringing me back from the future. There was no way on Earth – or anywhere else - I was going to betray that. Ever."

Rodney's voice was hesitant – stuttering. "I – I had n-no idea that I felt that way. I'd never given it any conscious thought. It's just the way things were between us. I only knew what I had to do, whether I was running to you in the middle of the night or apparently the past-future-me devoting every waking hour working on a miracle."

John hated the idea of giving up physical contact with Rodney, but had to release his other arm. He didn't want Rodney's reaction to be swayed by bodily hunger. "So, now that you know, what do you feel?"

Rodney winced. "You want me to unravel every emotion I've felt toward you, whether I've lived it or it belongs to another Rodney-who-was-or-will-be-someday, and give you an answer this minute? How can I possibly give you an honest reply when half of me is dazed, half flattered and half terrified which, even with my genius, is a half too many. You need to back off and let me process things."

John scrabbled backwards away from the warm solidity of Rodney's body.

Rodney grabbed a hold of John's trademark black tee, halting his retreat. "I didn't mean physically, you idiot. I've missed having someone to touch, not that you're just a body. But I need time. That's all."

John let out the breath he felt he'd been holding in since he'd made his declaration. "I can do that. It's cool. No pressure. So, now that you know most of what I know, how about we get some sleep. I'm wiped and think you're in no better shape."

Rodney nodded without saying a word. With only a look between them, they spread out the sleeping bags, close enough that they could reach out to one another, should either have a nightmare following the painful revelations. Only when the lamps were dimmed and the two men stretched out did Rodney speak. "I'm glad you had a good life, John."

John lifted his head and shook it, certain Rodney would see the movement even in the dim light. "Rodney, it wasn't _my_ life. I'm still living this one and hope I will for a very long time."

Rodney sighed. "Alternate reality can be a real bitch."

John laughed. "Don't forget the bastard who ditched her at the side of the road."

Their joined laughter felt good and in a few minutes their breathing had evened out and they slept. No nightmares intruded.

~ ~ ~

**Day Five** : The next morning was an unseasonable grey. John knew he certainly wouldn't enjoy any outdoor activity without the warmth of the sun and was more than certain that Rodney wouldn't even step outside. So, he cajoled Rodney to show him the program and the algorithm that had detected Skippy's presence, even in a roundabout way. John knew that Rodney was always eager to talk about his brilliant leaps of innovation. And John always loved seeing Rodney sputter in mock-outrage whenever John asked a question that wasn't entirely moronic. This was _exactly_ the kind of temporary retreat from the emotional minefields, the ones they'd already slogged through and what still lay ahead. John also reasoned that, the more he understood of Rodney's program, the better he could sway Alma in promoting it.

After Rodney had laboriously detailed how he'd separated and identified everybody's sub-cu transmitter, John felt he'd had the equivalent of a Ph.D crammed into his own skull. Mensa-material or not, he was developing a headache. So he called a halt to the brainiac after-school special. Rodney almost pouted, but changed his response when John suggested an early dinner that included a bottle of Richard's best wine.

Rodney's reply was immediate and enthusiastic. "Hell, yeah. Though we may need more than just one bottle. I don't know if I have the energy to chew meat tonight. How about broiled salmon steaks, garlic mashed tormack and sliced tomatoes with chopped onion. And cherry pie for dessert."

John stood up and pulled Rodney to his feet. "Works for me. So ... a couple bottles of Chardonnay?"

"Right. If you put them in the cooler, they'll be ready when dinner is."

Both men moved into the cooking area of the dwelling and worked in silence, though this time it felt warm and companionable to John, unlike the awkwardness on their first day. After dinner they lingered with the rest of the wine.

What Rodney didn't yet know was that John wasn't finished _sharing_ with him.

As they leaned back against the cushions and enjoyed the fire, John could only hope that Rodney would still feel comfortable with him tomorrow. But he said nothing as the two men prepared for sleep.

**Day 6:** The next day, John suggested a sugar-heavy breakfast. He wanted Rodney to be suffused with serotonin. Rodney had no idea he was a guinea pig, but simply dug into the spread of coffee, toast, jam, bagels, cream cheese and fruit.

Before lunch, they played Prime/Not Prime, something they hadn't done in a long time. John liked watching Rodney sputter whenever he gave him a ridiculously easy Not Prime number. They continued to tease each other during their meal of turkey burgers and salad (so Carson wouldn't nag them about contracting scurvy). While the hours meandered by, John kept reminding himself that Rodney shouldn't ... wouldn't hate him for what John felt he needed to reveal. Or, at least what Skippy thought John _should_ reveal. Damned Ancients and their delusions of superiority. Though at least Skippy had retained the most humanity. Not surprising, considering he'd avoided the other Ancients most of the time, Ascended or not.

John convinced Rodney to start dinner early. They sliced most of the remaining vegetables and layered them as if preparing ratatouille, though without all the garlic, because they were sleeping close to the food prep area. While the stew simmered, the flatbread crisped on the grill.

John also suggested that they shower before dinner so that they wouldn't need to do it before bed. When Rodney returned, he was wearing a new pullover with horizontal charcoal and navy stripes. John swallowed through the lump in his throat. Rodney looked really, _really_ good in it. John wondered if it had been a gift from Jeannie. After John had taken his own shower, he came back wearing his favourite blue plaid shirt. He noticed Rodney glancing at him throughout dinner, as they enjoyed their food and a bottle of Grenache.

After their meal, they settled back on the cozy couch before the fireplace. John had deliberately not suggested dessert as he wanted Rodney to be focused on what was about to happen. Luckily, Rodney was full and hadn't noticed.

John turned to face Rodney. "Do you still trust me?"

Predictably, Rodney puffed out his chest. "What now? I thought we were done with the doom'n'gloom stuff."

John nodded. "Oh, we are, we definitely are. Nobody dying. Buuuuut...."

Rodney's voice rose in irritation. "But what, Sheppard? Just what are you hiding now?"

John scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Uh ... Skippy showed me more of life in the future. Don't get me wrong, it's a good life – lives – but what I'm about to show you may shock you."

This time Rodney definitely rolled his eyes. "We live on Atlantis, are friends with aliens and sorta, kinda defeated the Wraith. And you think I'll be shocked?"

John shrugged his shoulders. "Uh ... yeah. Maybe?"

In response Rodney growled. "Sheppard."

"Okay, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. You've gotta turn to face me." When Rodney complied, John continued. "Now give me both hands."

"Are you out of your mind?" Both of Rodney's hands were well out of reach, each tucked stubbornly under the opposite arm.

"Look, Rodney. I don't even know if this will work, because Skippy didn't share it with you. So, please, just hold my hands."

Rodney sighed but didn't complain any further. He took John's hands.

"Remember, I'm not sharing any of this to hurt you. But somewhere, this is happening or will happen to us. Alternate Johns and Rodneys. Or future us. Whatever."

Rodney glared at John, but his look dissipated as he noted John's gentle gaze. And then he was falling through a wormhole, ending up on his bed, though he wasn't alone. John was with him. He was _with_ John. Rodney's focus was split in two. Though he was seeing the visions through John, he somehow knew John was watching intently and gauging his reactions.

Rodney struggled to form words. "This is – this is – I'm not supposed to know what you look like when you're having sex. Or what I look like. Or you, with me. This is like the most narcissistic porn ever. That, or Skippy decided to play a nasty joke on both of us."

John rubbed soft circles over the backs of Rodney's hands. "Shhh. It's not just sex. Just pay attention."

Rodney squirmed, feeling especially vulnerable holding John's hands, but was grateful to see the bed and nakedness gone. Though in this scene, there was still kissing. Lots and lots of kissing. They were on Atlantis and didn't look to be much older than their current ages, but they were dressed up, Rodney in a very well-fitting tux and John in his Dress Blues. The room they were in was decorated with small trees and flowers, there were numerous round tables covered in bright cloths and – Rodney's mouth fell open – a chocolate and vanilla wedding cake topped with two grooms. He sputtered, "You – me – we get married???" Rodney's voice hit a new height of screechiness.

John simply held Rodney's hands more tightly. There was a lot more for Rodney to digest. Though he had to admit that he and Rodney made a fine couple on the dance floor. With lots of pauses for more kissing. God, but Rodney was a terrific kisser.

John continued to hold Rodney's hands, though he didn't need to exert much pressure. Rodney seemed to be wholly engrossed in the visions and only occasionally muttered something, usually in a sarcastic tone.

By the time the visions had run their course, Rodney had witnessed each of them fathering a child with Athosian surrogates (sisters, maybe, or cousins), eventually moving back to Earth. Both teaching in Boston, or in New York attending a Broadway show that Rodney was convinced John had twisted his arm to see, or in Vancouver visiting Jeannie, their combined brood making a racket in the background.

Rodney wasn't sure if this was the vision of a single linear future time-line (because it certainly looked like it) or whether there were enough similarities among the various time-lines to make the outcomes fairly uniform.

There were more scenes but Rodney simply could not absorb them. Even so, he knew that John would remind him of what he'd missed. As often as necessary, the rat.

Finally, John released Rodney's hands and Rodney slumped back against the cushions. "Is this – is this what's supposed to happen? What will happen between us?" Rodney didn't know whether he wanted a confirmation or a denial.

John reached out to rub Rodney's shoulder. "Look, Rodney, none of this will happen if you don't feel – or don't think you feel - the same way I do about you. I've loved you for a long time, but didn't think it would ever lead to anything, even when the rules changed. You were my best friend and I was okay with that. Not thrilled, just being realistic. I figured you'd finally get the girl, become hitched and I'd end up being Uncle John to the kids. It would have been the easiest way to stay in your life, even if I was always on the outside." John rubbed his jaw, uncertain if he should continue. "And, yeah, I'm gay, though I thought I could make things work with Nancy."

Rodney snorted when he heard that. "You sure had unrealistic hopes."

John was calm as he replied, "I don't think I'm the only one who swallowed the party line, pal."

Rodney nodded. "To a point, you're right. Even in academia I had to be careful until I got my first PhD. And, then, I think people cared more whether I yelled at them than who I slept with."

"So you...?" John waved his hand, as if to suggest that Rodney wasn't as innocent when it came to sex with guys and wasn't disappointed when Rodney nodded, jerking his head twice.

"Well, that's a relief, knowing that Skippy wasn't potentially making all of this up."

Rodney put his hands in the air, as if to push himself away from John. "Whoa, now. That's a big leap to go from 'has slept with guys' to 'falls in love with John Sheppard'."

"But it's still a step and not an impossibility." John looked at Rodney with such a hopeful expression on his face that Rodney quirked an eyebrow. That seemed to be good enough for John. For the moment.

"So...?"

"So...."

They looked at each other, neither able to say anything else. Considering how much John had revealed, it wasn't surprising.

John began again. "So, I think we ought to go to bed – uh, I mean sleep." John grimaced, wondering if all of their future conversations would be just as stilted. And ripe for misunderstanding.

Rodney nodded. "No, no, I agree. Sleep sounds good."

As they laid out their bedding, John was relieved to note that Rodney had not pushed his bag away from John's. It was still close enough they could reach one another. For John that was a small victory. But he had not expected to hear a quivering "John" when the lamps were put out. When he leaned over, he saw that Rodney's eyes were closed, but one arm was reaching in his direction. He reached out and squeezed Rodney's hand. "Goodnight, Rodney. Go to sleep, buddy."

Rodney squeezed back before withdrawing his hand. And then there was silence.

**Day Seven:** The following day John woke up well before Rodney. He showered and dressed quickly and packed some food. When Rodney opened his eyes, he saw that John was wearing his outdoor clothes. 

"What's wrong? Do we need more fresh water?"

"Nah. Everything's okay. I just thought I'd fly up the mountain and get a better look at the terrain, especially if we're going to bring others from the city."

Rodney's voice sounded nervous. "Are we – are we okay?"

John moved over to pat Rodney on the back. "Yeah, we are. It's just that we've been together for six days non-stop. I really do need to survey the site and figure you'd be bored while I'm doing it. But I thought you probably wouldn't mind having some time to yourself."

Rodney grumbled, "You know it drives me crazy when you make sense."

John grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Aw, Rodney. You think I make sense?"

Rodney mock-scowled while John laughed. At least it wasn't the mountain-shattering braying. "Stay in touch. Check in every hour?"

John nodded. "Yes, Mom. Permission to leave?"

Rodney nearly pushed him out the door, then turned back to check if John had left him something for breakfast and lunch. It was a good thing he had, because a hungry Rodney was usually a cranky Rodney.

Though Rodney feared the day would drag on as his thoughts overwhelmed him, he was surprised to see how quickly the hours flew by, marked by John's regular check-ins. Between the check-ins and the music he listened to, he barely had any time to dissect and tear apart the visions and was actually surprised when John walked through the door.

John had some broken evergreen branches in his arms that he tossed onto the woodpile. "I thought we'd add some holiday scent to the fire tonight."

Rodney shrugged. "If you grew up in a country filled with trees, one evergreen would seem to be the same as any other. But if it makes you happy, go right ahead and be ... _festive_." Rodney ended up smirking at the confused look on John's face. Perhaps he'd overdone the emphasis on "festive"?

"I put supper together while you were out. It's not much, but I'm sure it'll warm you up." Rodney pointed to the pot on the rack where the grab bag vegetable soup was bubbling. And the BLT sandwiches on a nearby plate.

John smiled back and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "I'll be back. Just need a quick hot shower." When he returned ten minutes later, the food was on the table. He noticed there was no wine, but did not comment. However, he did smile again when Rodney brought out chocolate pudding cups. Nobody could ever go wrong with those.

After dinner, they sat on their couch. John entertained Rodney with a summary of everything he'd seen during the day. And then surprised Rodney by proposing a trip together to the top of the mountain on their final full day there. Rodney looked hesitant but finally said "Yes". He knew how much John liked to fly and agreed it would be a good end to their vacation from Atlantis. Once they returned, they'd be up to their necks in new disasters while Alma tsked and shook her head. Though Rodney admired and respected her, he did not like being the target of her tsks.

After they'd laid out the sleeping bags, John reached for Rodney's hand. Rodney reached back and squeezed it, but did not let go. John sighed in contentment. When they fell asleep, their hands relaxed but stayed in close proximity.

**Day Eight:** In the morning, both men were busy getting ready to leave as soon as they'd eaten breakfast, a quick cheese omelet with toast that John had prepared. When they took off, the sun was bright, illuminating the tops of the few puffy clouds in the sky.

John flew over the area he'd surveyed yesterday and then landed on a wide ledge on the top of the mountain. While Rodney fretted about the risk of an avalanche, John promised not to yell – or yodel – so Rodney had nothing to fear. Rodney put his hands on his hips, as if to say "Are you kidding me". The eye-roll was a bonus.

With John leading the way, Rodney had no choice but to follow. Still, he trudged through the snow, stepping deliberately into John's footsteps. When John stopped, it was against a massive tree trunk. Rodney was forced to stop a couple of steps sooner, otherwise he would have bowled John over into the snow. Not that something so _accidental_ might not be amusing, but Rodney preferred not to give John any reason to ... return the favour.

John spread his arms wide. "So, whaddya think?"

Rodney turned and surveyed the vista around him: nothing but sky against the dazzling white mountaintop. For a moment he could appreciate the beauty and even said it, adding that he hoped it wouldn't lead to John singing _The Hills Are Alive ... With the Sound of Music_ in his presence. And then his stomach emitted a distinctive grumble, possibly as an editorial comment.

John laughed, the sound so much like actual music to Rodney's ears. The revelations of the past few days had made it clear to Rodney that John needed to laugh, needed to have a reason to laugh. If it meant that Rodney had to follow him up a mountain, then he would do it. But, preferably, in conjunction with food.

John must have interpreted his expression correctly, so turned and led them back to where he'd landed the 'jumper. He pulled out the small camping stove as well as a cooler bag, setting them down at the foot of the ramp. And then reached into a side compartment for a 6-pack of beer. Rodney noted it was Belgian, not John's typical American brand. But what was thoroughly American was their lunch of hot dogs on buns, coleslaw and potato chips.

When John raised the ramp so they could warm up inside the 'jumper, but suggested they stay overnight, Rodney was initially hesitant. First of all there was the matter of food, as John had packed only enough for lunch. But John surprised him again, showing where he'd stowed away several MREs, all of them Rodney's favourites.

Rodney's eyes widened. "You turkey! I brought all sorts of mostly-healthy fresh foods and you packed beer and MREs?"

John shrugged, nonchalantly. "Hey, it all worked out, didn't it? After all, _nobody_ insisted you bring healthy stuff, right? Though who ended up cooking most of the time, huh?"

Rodney was forced to nod in agreement. If he'd been here with – okay, no, he wasn't going to finish that thought, even though he was pretty sure there would most likely have been more nagging about proper nutrition. But he'd selected the food because he thought that both John and he would enjoy it. And they had. So, really, it had been no hardship on his part.

John quirked an eyebrow. "You know I'm right."

Rodney raised his arms in surrender. "Yes, yes, you're so right. But the reversal in eating habits is disturbing, even horrifying."

"I'm sure you'll survive. It's not the most shocking thing that's happened to you lately, you know."

Rodney grimaced. "Chasing after you and that _kid_ trumps anything as mundane as what I'm eating."

John's voice was unnaturally quiet in reply. "And you'll never have to chase after him again. He's gone for good, Rodney."

"I'm sorry."

John's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Why? It's not as if it would have worked out. You know ... an Ancient with ... me. Especially not after the revelations."

Rodney nodded. "No, you're right. Those changed everything."

The two men continued to talk, referencing the visions of the future. Rodney asked some intensely personal questions, but John was through hiding his true feelings, now that Skippy had uncovered everything.

Rodney remarked that he couldn't wait to meet Dave. John grimaced, adding that this time Dave's hilarious perception of "civilian contractor" equalling "boyfriend" would in fact be correct. Naturally, Rodney objected to the prospect of being introduced as a mere "civilian contractor". John's suggested "overlord with minions" seemed to calm him down again. John added he couldn't wait to see Dave's face after such an introduction.

Then Rodney mentioned that Jeannie wouldn't let him live this down – not for years – after she'd nagged him about settling, just to be married.

"I'm just glad you didn't go through with it, with Katie ... or Jennifer. And I'm not just saying that for selfish reasons."

"Yeah, I know." Rodney sighed ... a weary drawn-out breath. "But when my sister gets focused on something, she doesn't let go easily, if at all."

"I wouldn't worry. She'll have to go through me to get to you."

Rodney punched John in the arm. "Oh, _my hero_. How did I ever survive before you came along?"

"Ouch. Cut it out. And I think you did all right with that quick wit and sharp tongue."

"You know I can still turn that sharp tongue against you, Sheppard."

"Mmm. That's what I'm looking forward to."John's voice had turned low and husky.

"You – you. You're not supposed to mention _that_!"

"Can't help it. The thought of what I hope I'll eventually get to do with you is going to keep me company on many sleepless nights."

"I so do not want to know what you can or cannot help thinking ... or doing, if it involves me. And you said you'd be patient. So, _be_ patient." Rodney had crossed his arms into one of his _I'm not budging_ poses. "Now, are we done with the introspection sliding into gratuitous lust and can we move on to dinner? These MREs aren't going to eat themselves."

Naturally, John couldn't help but laugh – again - and they settled down to a quick dinner. John curbed any impatient tendencies to hurry the future by promising himself a good dream or three, though he thought he'd better wait until he was sleeping alone. Just in case.

Rodney, though, hadn't received that particular mental memo, so John was surprised – even shocked – after they'd turned the lights off and were lying side-by-side in their sleeping bags (that John had surreptitiously stowed on board), to feel Rodney's body shifting toward his. Seconds later, he felt a puff of warm breath on his face followed by a too-brief press of lips on his own.

John's quiet though confused "Rodney?" was met with a brief squeeze of his shoulder.

"Just consider it a down payment on the future, Sheppard."

John's voice remained steady though his heart was thumping wildly. "So you're admitting we do have a future? Isn't that like believing in fortune tellers?"

Rodney huffed. "Nothing at all like that. But dozens if not hundreds of Rodney McKays can't all be wrong, so I'll place my trust in their judgement."

John chuckled. "Gee, Rodney, I'm sure all of their respective John Sheppards feel so relieved to have your blessing."

Rodney let out a theatrical sigh. "Aren't you asleep yet? Or should I bounce something off one of the more tender spots on your skull?"

John's laugh was more energetic this time. "Hey, you _kissed_ me. So you can't hit my head. It's against the rules."

"I don't suppose you have that particular rule book handy?"

"Don't need it. It's all up here." John tapped the side of his head for emphasis. "And that's the other reason for not hitting my head. Of course," he smirked, "if you still want to hit me, you'll have to kiss it better."

Rodney groused back, "I'd rather kiss Zelenka."

"Now that's odd. I don't recall seeing _any_ visions with Radek in them, though I believe he was having a good time dancing at our wedding. Or most of them. Also muttering something about it being high time you got laid regularly. Though, as it was half in Czech, I could be mistaken. And shouldn't you have used the standard 'I'd rather kiss a Wookie' response? Though I kinda like the idea of being a 'scruffy nerfherder' myself."

Rodney growled one syllable in exaggerated exasperation, "Joooohn."

"Sorry, can't talk. Gotta sleep now." With that, John pounced on Rodney and gave him a very quick kiss before rolling away onto his side. The sound of John's fake snoring filled the interior of the 'jumper, but it soon changed to the even breathing of real sleep.

**Day Nine:** The sun was already high in the sky as John and Rodney awoke. Despite the fact that they'd _roughed_ it, they'd slept well. After a quick breakfast of MREs again, John flew them back to the lodge. It didn't take them long to tidy up the living space and pack up their belongings – much less without the food they'd consumed – and load the 'jumper.

Before they took off, Rodney quietly observed, "You know, Skippy saved you the need to actually tell me how you felt about me."

John groaned. "Don't I know it. Just remember, any time I keep stuff bottled up inside, you have my permission to jab me with your elbow."

Rodney grinned. "So you'll add that as an addendum in your rule book?"

John tapped his forehead twice with unrestrained glee. "Already done!"

They continued to banter back and forth during their return trip to Atlantis. As soon as they landed, John hailed Teyla and Ronon and asked if they'd care to join them for a reunion dinner, just the four of them.

Rodney and John separated, in order to return to their quarters with their individual belongings, and to check in with their seconds. John made sure to radio Rodney an hour before dinner, so he'd actually show up on time. Rodney grumbled, but was in the Mess before the others arrived.

Dinner among the four former teammates was a reminder of the close friendships they'd formed and still maintained, even if they weren't in contact as often.

Teyla remarked that they both seemed to be very relaxed.

Rodney raised a finger in objection. "How could I relax when his snoring kept me awake night after night?"

John jumped in, protesting. "I snore? You're the one with the big mouth, McKay. You snored more!"

Ronon grinned. "Actually, you both snore."

Teyla's voice was sweet as she added, "It is my observation that _all_ of you snore, whenever I have had to share sleeping quarters with you." She gave them her serene smile and not one of them dared to refute her.

Then Rodney managed to change the topic, telling their friends about his program and what he'd be proposing at the next senior staff. They didn't mention anything about their deaths or foreknowledge of the future, not wanting to give Alma the impression of playing favourites.

John talked about the flights he'd made to the mountaintop and how he'd dragged Rodney outdoors several times during the week. Ronon clapped Rodney on the back and challenged him to a contest of outdoor survival which sent Rodney into a coughing fit that morphed into sputtering protestations.

Finally, the four parted at the end of a most enjoyable evening. John proposed they make it a habit to have dinner together on a regular basis. As expected, all agreed. Rodney appeared to be the most affected by the warm renewal of friendships, as he'd been the most isolated by recent events.

When the two men arrived at a juncture in the hallway, Rodney seemed the most reluctant to veer off toward his own quarters, to say goodnight to John. But he couldn't put it off any longer, so gave a forlorn little wave before turning and walking away quickly.

He was surprised to get a call on his comm from John a minute later. He squawked, "What now? I thought we were going to sleep, back to the old grind, big day ahead tomorrow, convincing Alma and all that nonsense!"

John chuckled. "Open your door, Rodney."

"What? Why? Is this some sort of a trick?"

John sighed. "Just do it, Rodney." He could hear Rodney muttering as he took the few steps.

As the door to Rodney's quarters slid open, John wasn't anywhere to be seen. But, sitting on the floor were two butterscotch pudding cups. Rodney picked them up and stepped back, allowing the door to close, and then remembered that John was still on the other end. "John?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Are you dumping your camping leftovers on my doorstep? Or are they supposed to be a souvenir?"

"Just thought you'd like them. Have one before bed. You'll sleep better."

Rodney was silent for a moment. "You know, this feels weird."

"What?"

"Not sleeping next to you."

John sighed. "Yeah, it's a transition. But maybe we can...."

"Well, not immediately. I'm a busy man, you know, and I have to get back to lording over my minions."

"Right, because you wouldn't want me to have to lie to Dave."

"No-no-no. You should never lie to Dave ... well, at least not about me."

"Don't worry, Rodney. I won't."

"Okay, then. And ... thanks for the pudding."

"You're welcome, buddy. Sleep well."

As John prepared to go to sleep, he imagined Rodney with the pudding cup, licking the spoon and moaning. He had good memories - _real ones_ \- of Rodney's moans. Okay, so they were only over food, but he could transpose them to other activities. And he did have that promise to keep to himself, of a few really good dreams.

For the time being, he'd busy himself with work, with helping to keep them all alive on Atlantis, and allow the future to look after itself. He didn't need to flip a coin, he was so certain that Rodney would be there for him. And, eventually, with him.

After all, he really wanted to burst Dave's pompous shield, and was sure Rodney would like to put a few holes through Jeannie's delusions of moral superiority.

It was good to have goals in life. They might not be normal ones, but then neither was his life. And, if it hadn't been for Skippy, he wouldn't have a life to look forward to with Rodney in it. So, he really was more _fine_ than he'd ever been in his life. He just wouldn't let Rodney know, not right away, as the man might smack him – right in the rulebook! John fell asleep, still smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S CONVENIENT FALLBACK: POV switching back-and-forth, as deemed necessary (I claim Ancient magic immunity).  
> LANGUAGE CHOICE: Here be yer peculiar Canadian spellings. Eh?  
> DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to a whole bunch of alphabetical entities. I know the Polish – and Middle Egyptian – alphabets. Not the same thing. Not for profit, just fun.  
> DEDICATION: As always, to my chosen baby brother, Brian. I keep promising you a story pairing John Sheppard with an Ancient male. Unfortunately, this is still not it, but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. ~~Have a very Happy Birthday!~~ Oops! Let's just say I had the best of intentions but RL got in the way, so it actually took me OVER one year to finish this story for you! But at least I got it to you for your 2013 Birthday ... uh ... _month_ , lol.  
> MISSING ARTWORK: I made a “Coming Soon” poster in 2013 for Brian, but am unable to reproduce it here. It shows a wonderful RL photo of Joe F with his arm around David H's neck. Both men look happy and relaxed, especially David. The photo was taken at Vancon in 2010 by **"crysothemis"**. For the role of Skippy, I chose Sasha Byazrov who appears in ... uh ... naughty films. Look him up, though be aware that the images may be NSFW, Here's one of [Sasha's pretty butt](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_t7KMidNgnzs/RZArONzo_2I/AAAAAAAACpQ/8nwthtMjy9c/s320/SashaByazrov006.jpg)  
>  DISTRIBUTION: Posted originally on February 28, 2013, to my personal DW/LJ.


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